Childish Things
by Goddess Of Heather
Summary: “When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child but when I became a man, I put away childish things.”


Merry Chirstmas ya'll!

Title: Childish Things 1/?  
Author(s): Clarkangel and Goddessof7s  
Summary: "When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things."  
Characters: Chase, House  
Warnings: child abuse, neglect, rape, defamation of a nun.  
AN: Clarkangel and I thought this would be a story to write. So we did. Silentflux as always edits my (our) illustrious work until it shines.

"Is this Diagnostics?"

House was leaning back casually in his chair feet propped on his desk. He didn't even bother to look up from his game boy, "That's what it says on the door."

"Is Dr. Robert Chase in today?"

"Yeah probably check next door." House waves aimlessly in a general direction that encompasses the balcony, hall way and the room next door.

Rather than be irritated, a perky, "thanks mate," followed. The blatant Austrianlism drove home the accent and House finally looked up. The first thing he noticed was army duffle slung over one shoulder, second that he was young thirteen or fourteen, lanky with a look of growth to come. His hair was a light blonde that was starting to darken with puberty and most importantly he was the spitting image of Chase with his big blue eyes and rounded face they were most certainly related. _That_ was intriguing. Plus he'd just lost his last life and the OC re-run wasn't on for another twenty minutes. He limped after the boy and into the diagnostics lounge. Everyone was spread out in typical fashion around the table. Chase was bent over a crossword and didn't notice their entrance, either that or he was waiting for someone to speak.

"Umm, Rob?" Chase's head popped up and House suppressed a great one-liner about whip-lash, wanting to watch what would unfold without his interference.

Chase looked more confused than House was expecting, "yes?"

The teen looked extremely uncomfortable and started shifting uncomfortably back and forth. "I'm -umm- Chad?" House liked the questioning tone as if the boy wasn't sure of anything even his name. God. People were so stupid. Chase's face didn't clear up any and House had to wonder just how screwed up Chase's family was that he didn't even recognize the kid's name. That or everyone in Australia was inbred. Come to think of it, the inbreeding could have precipitate the crazy family shenanigans. "Margaret's son." This sounded more definitive and it also sparked awareness in Chase, apparently since his eyes widened and his chair dropped on all fours with a thud.

Foreman, having finally bought a clue asked, "are you two related?"

Chad fidgeted even more, "Yes, I'm his-"

"Half-brother" Chase interrupted and House had to wonder what Chase was afraid of Chad saying.

"I was wondering if I could crash on your couch for awhile." Apparently the fidgets was spreading because suddenly Chase was shifting uncomfortably too.

"Sure." The word was soft and shrugging and House thought it was the same tone Chase used for all his compliance. It meant nothing because he gave it freely. More sharply and with some enthusiasm Chase said, "Wait does your mother know that you're here?" Chad looked away mumbling. "What?" Chase's voice was still sharp and expressing more emotion than when his father had died.

"The tumor's back." Chase paled considerably. "I didn't want to go into foster care." For a brief second something flitted imperceptibly across Chase's face and then it was shuttered and distant. Chase might as well have been in Australia for all that he was sitting in the hospital next to Cameron. Glancing at the clock Chase got up and gathered some papers and tossed over his shoulder at House, "Four o'clock. I'll be in tomorrow regular time," and disappeared around the corner with his herded brother and a swirl of white lab coat.

88888888

The car ride was silent and uncomfortable. Chase was just happy that he'd decided to drive, he often just biked to work, after all he only lived about 4 miles away. His apartment wasn't small, but neither was it large. It had come with a mish mash of furniture and it was clear that Chase hadn't bothered to improve it. The decrepit couch had clearly seen better days was at least a pull out and there was a coat closet that could be easily cleaned out for Chad's use. "You can put your stuff there." Chase pointed by the couch. "I'll scrounge up some space for you in the coat closet and bathroom. Here let me show you around." Chase didn't have to walk far, the kitchen area wasn't large but it managed to look it with the blending of the living room into the kitchen dining area. The bathroom was cramped and small explaining why Chase often chose to shower at the hospital. His bedroom appeared to merely be a place to store his body while he was sleeping and nothing more. The apartment was in short- functional and not much else.

Eventually they ended back up in the living room, on the couch, Chase took the worst spot where one of the springs tried to kidney punch you every time you sat down. "Chad, don't talk about your mom to anyone here okay? I haven't told anyone about what happened, and well as you saw House is kinda a jackass, and I'd rather him not have anymore ammunition." Chad nodded numbly. "Now about the tumor, did they say it was operational?"

"Not this time. It's in such a delicate area. They said that she'll be dead within the next year. They have to keep her in the hospital now, I just didn't want to stay anymore."

Chase nodded his head in perfect understanding. "Well we'll have to look into getting you into school and think about finding a place where you can have your own room. My lease is up in two months so we'll work on the school and think about looking for a new apartment." Chase shifted uncomfortably but placed a hand over Chad's and held on for a brief moment. He offered no words of hope or surety of good times ahead, because he felt none himself.

Chase didn't know what to do with Chad. He didn't know how to offer any comfort. He ordered pizza and they ate then watched some tv and Chase ignored the phone that rang several times and was mostly Cameron. Eventually he turned the ringer off. When Chad fell asleep watching tv, Chase left it on and Chad on the couch, pulling a blanket over him. He watched him sleep for a moment, one hand stealing out to ruffle Chad's hair only to pull back at the last minute. His hand was shaking.

Heading into his bedroom, Chase took a shower. A long shower. He felt cold and sick suddenly and he wasn't sure he could handle this. He was barely able to deal with his own life and problems. How was he going to deal with Chad?

Forcing himself to calm down and focus, Chase finished his shower, pulled on boxers and got into bed. But he didn't sleep. Instead he stared at the ceiling for the next eight hours and tried, desperately, not to panic.

OoO

Chad was up when Chase came out of the bedroom in the morning. He was ready for work and Chad was sitting on the couch, watching TV.

"Are you going to be all right on your own?" Chase asked him.

"Sure," Chad replied, without looking away from the screen.

Chase sighed. "I have to go to work. I'll leave my cell phone number on the counter. Call me if you need anything. And help yourself to the food or whatever else you need." Chad nodded.

Chase was heading for the door when Chad called him back. "Yes?"

"You don't want me here, do you?" Chad blurted out.

"I want you here," Chase replied. "You're family. I'm just...I'm not good with this stuff. Just be patient with me. But I do want you here."

Chad stared at him now, eyes narrowed, gaze intense. After a long moment he nodded then looked away. "Okay." His focus was now back on the TV.

Chase sighed softly and headed out the door.

When he got to work, he wasn't all that surprised when three sets of eyes stared at him the moment he entered the room. He said nothing to them, moving immediately to the counter for a cup of coffee.

"Are you okay?" Cameron was the first to break the silence.

"I'm fine." Chase frowned at her. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Cameron shrugged. "You left in such a rush yesterday, and you look tired this morning. Is everything all right with your brother?"

Chase resisted the urge to snap at Cameron. He didn't want to talk about it but he knew she was like a dog with a bone. So he would try to appease her curiosity just enough to get her to back off. "Everything is fine. Do we have a case?"

"We do," House allowed, but that was all he said. He was sitting in a corner chair, simply watching the show.

"Where's the file?" Chase asked. When Foreman shoved it towards him he opened it and tried to focus on the information. He was relieved when Foreman started making comments on it, hoping it would distract everyone's attention off him. It seemed to work. Half an hour later, Foreman and Cameron were sent to get a history and do tests. House sent Chase to do his clinic hours. Chase was almost glad to do them. He felt rather frazzled and unfocused, but seeing clinic patients was something he could do on auto pilot.

It wasn't enough of a distraction, however, to keep him from thinking about Chad's mother. After seeing six patients, Chase excused himself for a break. But before he could head outside he got paged back to the conference room. Foreman had the test results and Cameron had the history. They all threw out ideas and thoughts until Chase found himself zoning out. He came back to awareness when House made a disturbing comment.

"How about you, Chase? You got any secrets you'd like to share with the class?" House queried, his gaze directly focused on Chase.

"No!" Chase snapped, feeling his stomach coil into a knot of cold panic. House couldn't know the truth. There was no way he could know. To distract himself from the panic he moved to the side table and grabbed a mug, but his hand was shaking and it slipped out of his grasp, hitting the corner of the counter and shattering before hitting the floor. "Dammit!" Chase muttered, falling to his knees to collect the shards. He was still shaking to the point where he cut himself. But he didn't notice it until Cameron called his attention to the blood slicking his palm.

She grabbed his wrist. "I'll clean it up for you." Chase pulled his hand away. "I'll do it," he replied, then he fled the room. He used the hem of his lab coat to press against the cut, not caring that the coat would be ruined now. He had others. He had just stepped onto the elevator and the doors were closing when he realized there was another occupant. Someone Chase had been avoiding. Dr. Arnell. She was a psychiatrist. And ever since the mistake he'd made resulting in a patient's death, Cuddy had ordered Chase into therapy. Weekly sessions for one year. He had nine months to go.

"Hello, Dr. Chase," Dr.Arnell offered in greeting. "What happened to your hand?"

"I cut it." No reason to lie about it.

She nodded, dark hair falling across her cheek. "I can fix that for you in my office. After which we can make up that session you missed. You were supposed to reschedule."

Chase felt like a little kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Sorry about that. I've just been really busy. I can't do a session today, but I promise to reschedule."

"You'll have to make time," Dr. Arnell insisted. "You don't want me to tell Cuddy you've missed your sessions, do you?"

"No," Chase whispered, wishing the floor would open up and swallow him whole.


End file.
